


The two of us

by GubraithianFire



Series: Tumblr Commissions [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Husbands, Kissing, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6602593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GubraithianFire/pseuds/GubraithianFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Soft light. Someone speaking on the telly. The sound of mouths crashing together. Panting. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>John looks at him. He sees: curly hair, impossible eyes, lips made to be kissed, a long nose.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>John looks at him. He says, “God, you’re gorgeous.” "</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Commission fic for Bea @<a href="http://arthurdent.co.vu/">watsnn</a>. Thank you darling, love you lots, hope you'll enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The two of us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlocksdaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksdaughter/gifts).



> You asked for domestic fluff, I give you smutty fluff. Ha. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Soft light. Someone speaking on the telly. The sound of mouths crashing together. Panting.

John looks at him. He sees: curly hair, impossible eyes, lips made to be kissed, a long nose.

John looks at him. He says, “God, you’re gorgeous.”

Sherlock smiles softly, lips curling up in an endearing expression.

He leans forward and kisses John again. Just a slide of lips on lips at first, a full on snog seconds later.

John drags his tongue over Sherlock’s palate, feeling Sherlock’s toes curl under his thighs. This is everything.

Sherlock smells of cheap Chinese food and his coconut shampoo; he smells of chemicals and that hairspray he uses and _home_.

This is just a usual night at 221B; take-away, crap telly, lazy make out sessions on the couch, as Sherlock slips his cold-ass feet under John’s bum.

Snogging after fried rice and soy sauce is a bit disgusting and yucky, but they don’t mind.

John tangles his hands in Sherlock’s hair and breathes him in.

John cradles Sherlock’s face in his hands, their mouths barely touching, their noses brushing together.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers, and then Sherlock is kissing him again, with his usual enthusiasm.

“You’re the only one, John.”

They could have had this so many years ago.

John thinks back on when everything started.

\---

John wheezed when the first blow hit him in the stomach. He stumbled backwards, trying to stay upright. The jewel-thief hit again, and this time John avoided it, landing a punch on the man’s jaw.

John tackled the man to the ground, and right then Sherlock appeared.

“Right on time,” John snarled, keeping the man’s arms behind his back.

“Lestrade is getting here,” Sherlock said, and John huffed, before a blinding pain erupted from his left side.

Stab wound, his mind told him.

The smell of copper. Pain. Sherlock screaming his name. Sherlock.

Sherlock.

“John, do _not_ fall asleep. You hear me? Do _not_ close your eyes. And you, if he dies you won’t make it out of this room alive.”

It was worth many wounds, John thought, to know how much Sherlock cared about him.

Not that he had many doubts, not after the whole Mary’s business.

Sherlock had stayed with him after discovering the baby wasn’t his, and had been John’s rock and anchor for all those months.

“John, stay with me, please. I love you, stay with me.”

I love you too, John thought, as he drifted off to sleep.

 

John woke up in a blinding whiteness. It was bright and clean and smelt of antiseptic.

Someone was holding his hand.

“He stabbed you in your spleen,” Sherlock’s voice was shaking.

“Sherlock, I’m right as rain, see?” John attempted to smile, but he probably grimaced, for Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Idiot.”

“I know you mean ‘I love you’ when you say that.”

Sherlock literally froze, his whole body growing stiff.

Scared.

“Don’t make that face,” John said softly, reaching up with his free hand to trail over Sherlock’s cheek.

“I love you too.”

Sherlock’s eyes filled with tears, a sob erupted from his throat.

“John,” he just said, and then they were kissing.

\---

The telly keeps playing as John rubs his nose against Sherlock’s.

“Time for bed, honeybee,” he whispers, pecking Sherlock’s lips one last time before getting up and stretching.

He offers Sherlock his hand, and Sherlock takes it. They walk to the bathroom, fingers linked, and brush their teeth, smiling at each other in the mirror reflection.

They get into the bedroom, change into their pyjamas and get under the covers. John is already half asleep, when he feels lips at the back of his neck.

“John,” Sherlock breathes, and John sighs, turning on his side.

Sherlock is sleeping bare-chested, and John trails his fingertips over Sherlock’s naked arm. Their noses touch as he asks, “What is it, love?”

Sherlock’s eyes shine in the dim light; he still has to get used to endearments.

“I just… Sometimes I forget that this is real. That I’ll wake up and you won’t be in 221B, and I-”

“Shh,” John presses a finger on Sherlock’s lips. “Hush now, love. I will never leave. You’re everything.”

John kisses Sherlock’s chin. “Everything.”

The dip over his sternum. “Everything.”

The side of his throat. “Every.”

His cheek. “Thing.”

“John,” Sherlock whispers. A plea, an entreaty, a need.

John knows what he needs.

He kisses Sherlock languidly, all tongue and teeth, as he slowly straddles his waist.

Then he grinds down.

Sherlock gasps in his mouth, and John swallows the sound, humming in approval.

“John,” Sherlock moans again.

John frees Sherlock’s erection, and lowers his head to take it in his mouth.

Sherlock’s hands tangle in his hair, pulling lightly, as John sucks and swirls his tongue around Sherlock’s girth.

With a loud, wet sound, John releases Sherlock’s cock, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He kisses the inside of Sherlock’s thighs, his bellybutton, to then crawl up to him and suck on a hard nipple.

“Aah-ah,” Sherlock breathes, hips canting.

God, how John loves tearing Sherlock Holmes apart.

Sherlock emits a low rumble. “John, please, more.”

John smiles at his husband, and sheds his underwear. He aligns his and Sherlock’s hips and starts rolling them, a slow and maddening rhythm, sliding their erections together.

Then he bends down and kisses Sherlock, sucking on his lower lips, right hand in Sherlock’s hair, his right linked with Sherlock’s.

He snaps his hips forward, and Sherlock moans loudly, his back arching.

Then he’s coming against John’s stomach.

Sherlock was a virgin before meeting John. And although that is no longer true, he still behaves like one, sometimes. For example, it never takes long for him to be a debauched mess.

John lies on his side and stares at Sherlock’s dreamy expression as he pumps his cock. Sherlock’s post-orgasm haze is always a sight to behold.

Only seconds, and John is coming, too.

He leans forward and pecks Sherlock’s forehead.

John looks at him. He sees: glassy eyes, sweaty skin, bruised lips, messy hair.

John looks at him. He says, “It’ll always be the two of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! <3 xx
> 
> If you'd like to commission a fic too, just hit me up @[caspu](http://caspu.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> See you next time! :)


End file.
